Lamentation
by Merle's Right Hand
Summary: He buried his face into her unwounded shoulder as he felt himself slip for a moment, just this one moment with her. Only her. SPOILERS: Chap. 102


**Lamentation**

A FullMetal Alchemist Fanfiction  
Pre-AN: Heavy spoilers for Chapter 102. Proceed with caution.  
My own musing on what would happen after ch. 102. Enjoy!

Legal: I do not own FMA in any way nor do I know the great great Hiromu Arakawa-san. This was only for fun.

It was all over and done with, their staged coup, what others were calling a revolution, an uprising.

Their revolt.

Their rebellion.

Their _treason_.

They had been successful but that victory had come with its very own price. For some more than others it had been a heavy toll indeed. Equivalent exchange.

Breda stood in Central's military hospital when he saw Fuery from the corner of his eye. The young man hurried himself over, panting slightly as if he had been rushed. "Breda, I heard about the Colonel. What happened?" he asked, adjusting the glasses that had slipped down the bridge of his nose.

The taller man closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Not sure, Fuery. I just know that he went in able to see, and when he came out…"

Fuery's eyes went wide. "And the Lieutenant?"

"She's been in surgery. Should be out soon, then we can see her," Breda said, noticing a doctor making his way towards them.

"2nd Lieutenant Breda, Doctor Herschell. Lieutenant Hawkeye is out of surgery and stable. She's in room 304 if you wish to see her," He said, done flipping through his clipboard. "Not too much excitement, gentlemen, she needs to recover."

Breda and Fuery both nodded to the man and headed down the hall.

Blackness engulfed her.

Her neck and shoulder throbbed terribly, her throat sore. Slowly she opened her eyes, testing them. Blinking away the fogginess that still clouded her vision and her mind, Riza realized she was lying in a hospital bed.

Her hand flew to the side of her neck, the soft cotton of a medical bandage wrapped professionally around her throat, the fresh pull of a newly stitched wound in her shoulder where Envy had sliced her.

The door creaked softly and she looked up to see 2nd Lieutenant Breda and Master Sergeant Fuery poking their heads into her room. "Lieutenant Hawkeye, you're awake." Breda said, his mood visibly lifting.

She smiled weakly. "I thought you were the one who said no more ranks? That we were deserters now?"

Breda chucked as they entered the room and stood at the end of her bed.

"It's good to see that you're doing well, Lieutenant. We were very worried." Fuery tapped nervously on the footboard.

"The doctor said that you were very lucky that cut didn't go any deeper than it did," Breda told her.

Her fingers reached up to touch the bandage once more. "Mei Chan was there to help as well," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She frowned slightly. "Is the Colonel alright? Is he safe?" She watched as the two comrades' faces both dropped into serious expressions. "Where is he?" she asked, concern permeating her voice.

Fuery broke eye contact with her as Breda cleared his throat. "He was injured during battle, Lieutenant."

She felt herself moving before she even realized she was out of bed. "Take me to him," she demanded, her voice stern once more. Pulling a robe around her, she steadied herself, still weak from blood loss, against the side of the bed. Fuery caught her arm, keeping her from tumbling to the floor.

Breda reached a hand behind his head, scratching his neck. "I would, but he's refusing to see-"

Hawkeye pinned him with a look that made him immediately question his Colonel's orders. Yes, Roy Mustang could be insanely terrifying at times, but he was nothing compared to the wrath of his Lieutenant. _Her deadly accurate wrath_. "-Ah, but we'll escort you to his room personally, that is."

Letting his head fall back against the pillows, Roy growled low in frustration. He could feel his anger at his feebleness start to fill his heart.

How appropriate it seemed, this ironic twist of fate. The Truth, the same knowledge that Ed had, he had also, the knowledge that enabled them to transmute without a circle. But with his blindness, all of that information was utterly and completely useless. He couldn't continue being a flame alchemist if he could _see_ what or where he was directing his flame.

That wasn't the worst of it. To never literally _see_ the results of the work that he and his men had so worked and sacrificed so much for… it was almost too much to take in.

And his most trusted and dearest of subordinates - he sighed forlornly. To never see her brown eyes, the way they seemed to spark and yet somehow darken whenever someone brought her anger forth. The straw colour of her hair, whether it was pulled back into typical military style or left loose to catch a stray breeze… he would miss most the occasional quiet smile that would grace her lips whenever the others in the office would joke with one another.

"Sir?"

He jerked his head toward the door, towards Breda's voice. Frowning to no one, he answered the man sternly, "I said no visitors, Breda."

He could hear two pairs of footsteps, one soft, coming towards him, the scuffing of chair legs as they were dragged across the floor and came to rest next to him. "Sorry, sir," Fuery's voice softly filled the quiet of the room. "We had no choice."

A single set of footsteps lead away from him as Breda spoke quietly from the doorway. "We'll be here if you need us," and then silence.

Many moments passed before he felt a light touch on his hand. He gasped and the hand jerked itself away before reaching out once more to grasp his own, trembling minutely in his grip. His heart dropped. "Hawekeye."

Confirmation of her presence came with a gentle squeeze of her fingers and a quiet "Sir."

He moved his head as if too look away, squeezing his eyes tighter. As if there were any point now.

"Is it true?" she asked softly. He felt her weight settle on the bed, near the edge.

He let his hand reach for her cheek, his calloused fingers gently catching the gauze at her throat instead. Her breath hitched at the initial contact, making him aware of his error. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Her body moved slightly as she quietly shook her head before she remembered that he couldn't see her any longer. "It's okay. Just a scratch."

A bitter laugh escaped him as he let his hand drop back to the bed. "Hawkeye, I'm sorry for it all. I've failed this whole country, my men, the Elric brothers, you…"

Her hands came to rest on either side of his face, warm and equally as calloused as his own, pulling him closer to her. He tensed as he felt her warm breath fan against his cheeks before her lips grazed his left eyelid softly before she moved to kiss the right. The gentle pressure of her lips against his forehead as her fingers slipped into his hair shocked him into stillness.

"I'm sorry I didn't protect you," her lips brushed against his skin, barely moving, her voice merely a whisper. "You didn't fail us, Roy. Those in power have been eliminated and a new government is starting, just like you promised so many years ago."

Almost against his will, his arms wound themselves around her waist, pulling her close to him. He buried his face into her unwounded shoulder as he felt himself slip for a moment, just this _one moment _with her. Only her. "I don't know how to do this," his voice harsh and low, the lump in his throat making him choke.

Her cheek rested against the inky softness of his hair as she ran her fingers through it soothingly. "We'll find a way," she spoke softly for him.

He clutched her to him as he let go all of his anguish and frustrations, his body shaking with all of his anger and frustration and grief as it rushed from him. The near scalding sensations of his own tears were matched by his Lieutenant's as they met and mingled on his cheeks. He didn't care.

He soon gained control over himself, pulling away from her, running his hands over her face, trying to wipe away the evidence of her sorrow. His finger tips grazed her lower lip and he quickly pulled her towards him as he brushed her lips with his own. His heart became inflamed once more when she fervently pressed her lips against his own, matching his own desire before breaking their embrace.

His hand found hers once more. Somehow he knew she was smiling. "We'll find a way?" His voice gruff with emotion.

Squeezing his hand, her voice quiet but determined, "We'll find a way, sir."

Fin.

AN: Well, this was my first attempt at an FMA fic. Hopefully it wasn't too terrible.


End file.
